


Think of it

by AnotherLoser



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Emotional Instability, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Kidnapping, Mental Health Issues, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Psychological Torture, Recovery, Stockholm Syndrome, Torture, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-01
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-06-04 08:29:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6650236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnotherLoser/pseuds/AnotherLoser
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s been five months since the Singularity, and the better part of the last two passed without any sign of Barry Allen.  If he hadn’t closed off like he did after it, they’d have known that he was gone, but the radio silence he gave his friends was damning in just this situation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It’s been five months since the Singularity, and the better part of the last two passed without any sign of Barry Allen. If he hadn’t closed off like he did after it, they’d have known that he was gone, but the radio silence he gave his friends was damning in just this situation.  
Everyone had started to move on with their lives, as they eventually had to. Barry had kept fighting crime, refusing help to do it. He ran around in the middle of the night trying to help rebuild the city. They all knew that that’s what he was doing. Word even got around to Oliver. But then, by the time it did it was already too late.

By the time news reached Starling City that the Flash was working alone, he was also gone entirely. No one knew just yet, only that he missed one robbery. Given the situation - _his_ situation - it made sense that he couldn’t be everywhere. Even when he had a team to help him there were people and acts that he couldn’t get to.  
Oliver, his team, were concerned though, out of the loop aside from the most basic information far after it started.

Oliver tried to contact Barry. When he couldn’t get through Felicity tried, then his old team in Central City. And then another robbery was missed; a heist. Followed by the average petty crime. The police department was of course running just as well as always, but the Flash had yet to do anything in a month, and Joe was convinced that Barry went so far as to quit his day job.

They all searched. No traces of voluntary leave. No traces of anything at all, actually. For a while it was as if Barry Allen had simply vanished.  
There was a trail though. A difficult to find one, but it was there. As soon as they caught up to it, they had a handful of heroes to go get theirs.

No one really knew what they’d find. How bad it was. No one could have known.

[…]

Barry was a fast learner. Always has been. In school, in his job, with his powers. Barry did well. He was also undoubtedly stubborn, but just like with everything else, he learned to apply it in the right way. Fighting commands only did harm- harm to others, having to clean up his messes, having to teach him better. It was like with Dr. Wells, when Barry thought that he was in fact Dr. Wells. He'd screw up, not take something seriously enough, Wells could clean up his mess, and he'd have to learn better for next time. But that's where Barry was a slow learner, wasn't it? Because he kept screwing up before overcoming a challenge.

Applying his determination to listening made all the difference. Barry knew where he stood, and he knows that he isn't a pain this way. He and his teacher have gotten pretty comfortable, he likes to think. He could talk unless he was being punished, he could sit with his teacher casually and eat with him. The only thing that really got Barry in trouble was fighting back, physically or verbally. He had to listen, but that was all, really. His teacher made it clear from the beginning that he wanted Barry to keep being himself, he just needed better guidance. Barry still had quite a few things to say about that, but he knew his place. The uncomfortable shiver that went through his nerves when he was with the man was a gentle reminder of that.

The large hand on the back of his neck left as his teacher stood. "I have some errands to run. I'll be back in a little while. Any requests for dinner?"  
A thoughtful pause. "Not really." He had a list of things that he'd forgotten the taste of. He doesn't ask for any of them. Typically his teacher fed him simple meals loaded with carbs to account for his metabolism; lots of potatoes cooked in various ways, beef most often, green beans and corn. Now that he's behaving properly, Barry gets to eat as regularly as his teacher does.

He remembers the beginning, back when there were handcuffs and blindfolds and silence. So little stimulation. There was no food or water for a while either. After the first two lessons he got to eat. He always got to eat after lessons, as his speed-healing was slower without food, but only once he was feeling more up to it. Still, Barry has decided that not asking for anything was best.

He paces while his teacher is gone, bored out of his mind. Considering he used to be restrained when his teacher was gone, just being _able_ to pace was an improvement, but there was still nothing in the room. Nothing but a high shelf that he wasn't allowed to touch. He tried once in one of his previous attempts at fighting, but he was taught better very quickly.

There wasn't any way to tell time other than believing his teacher turned the lights off at night and not reverse, but Barry paced for a good little while before settling on the floor again. He'd complain more if he were a bit more comfortable with his teacher, but as it were, he's still a little unsure about how free his speech was. He's alright with entertaining himself though. So long as he kept his thoughts off of his old life then he was fine.  
He'd get songs stuck in his head from time to time. Not the entire thing, just a few lines of a handful of songs. It helped time pass.

So Barry was sat humming, legs out in front of him and his back against the wall when he heard noise again. His teacher was too organized to come back in less time than usual, but maybe Barry dozed off.  
He looked up when footsteps started down the stairs. Not one but two people filed in, neither his teacher.  
Everything- _everything_ was ruined.

He'd be back to square one. Maybe this was a punishment in itself, maybe he was too much to handle and he's being sent away. If not, his teacher was going to come home to this- to these people. The worry for what would be waiting for him tangled with fear of what was going to happen when the man in the hood reached him. The energy that ran through Barry's veins then was more than he'd felt since waking up that first day.

As the stranger approached him, he pulled down his hood and revealed a very familiar face. It was his mind playing tricks on him. He was going insane, lost in memories, a fantasy, maybe. He needed his teacher back. Needed to be brought back himself.  
"Barry--" The voice was so clear. He stared at the figure before him and gaped with wide eyes and ragged breath. It wasn't real, whatever it was, it wasn't real. He knew that much.

Oliver - what looked like Oliver - knelt in front of him as he drew his knees to his chest. A calloused hand touched his arm and it was so _real_ that something had to be _wrong_ because there was just no possibly way for Oliver Queen to be here now. For _anyone_ to be here.

Barry screamed.  
His hands covered his ears and his eyes shut tight, he let out as much noise as he could without a thought to what was tumbling out of his mouth.

A second later, _Oliver_ was grabbing his arms and trying to haul him to his feet.  
He struggled, he did, for a second and only a second. If his mind was mistaken, if this was in fact his teacher trying to wake him, he shouldn't fight too much. What he's done this far is enough to warrant more than enough punishment to set his head straight, he knows that, so he gulps and forces himself to be pliant.

There's a moment of hesitation and then he's being lifted to his feet. Barry couldn't look at his face. He didn't dare let his mind tell him it was Oliver again, so he forced his gaze to the floor and began apologizing with a weak voice. Just as he was taught. Apologize, listen, head down unless told otherwise.

He was trembling, he knew it. His nerves hadn't settled in the slightest. He was breaking so much more than he had before. This wasn't a mood swing or a flashback, he's had those. This was new, and this was terrifying. He didn't have time to continue before he was being scooped up bridal style- also something that had never happened before. His teacher didn't carry him, ever. He'd drag Barry across the floor if he didn't get up.  
He was being handled with more care than he was used to.

Nothing about this was right. A strangled whimper left his throat. He needed to wake up. He needed to be woken up and punished for indulging in this insanity, but it's so nice to be held. Before Barry caught what he himself was doing, he had his arms around whoever was carrying him.

[...]

_One week._

His fingers twitched behind his back. He did not move otherwise. He took a deep breath and smelt cement, so incredibly plain he was hardly catching anything at all. His shuddering exhale turned into a weak cough. His throat hurt. There was nothing else. No sound, no sight, no smells, nothing to feel even if he did try moving. Nothing but that hollow feeling in his gut and the dryness of his mouth.

He swallowed what little spit he produced and absently wished it was enough.  
There were very few thoughts. Very few wishes anymore. He's stopped thinking about home, or about rescue. He doesn't even think about how soon he's going to die like this. He couldn't keep track of the days, but during the first few he had more hope. He sat up, tried everything he could to get his arms free, scraped the side of his face on the floor to try and slide the blindfold off. He yelled and screamed and eventually just cried as his power driven metabolism sped him into starvation.

He wasn't hopeful like he had been anymore. He did not move aside from changing the position he was in on the floor from time to time. He did not try to speak. He did not try at all, because being left so entirely alone where he was, he was going to die.  
For now he clings onto the only physical feelings he can get, simultaneously glad for the pain and tortured by it.

When his arm falls asleep, it tingles at first and he can't remember a sleeping limb feeling _so much_ before, but perhaps that was the lack of other senses making it worse. He's learned to move as soon as it feels out of sorts, as the tingle will get worse until it _hurts_ so badly and he whimpers. _'like a hurt dog.'_ he thinks.

When he first hears noise, his entire body stiffens and he nearly lets out a sob at the thought he was fooling himself with imaginary sounds. First it was a click and a smooth slide of something heavy. Footsteps follow soon. Very suddenly, Barry doesn't have the faintest idea what to do. Hardly a thought crosses his mind- _has_ crossed his mind for what might have been days.

The previous thinking that he'd been left to die changes as large hands grab his shoulders and attempt to pull him up. Barry squirms to get his feet under him, shaking and wobbling as he does.  
"There you go." A rough voice drawls, and an unpleasant shiver goes down Barry's spine. "Don't rush yourself now, you've been down here for a week by yourself."

His stomach lurched. One week. Part of him was surprised that it hadn't been longer. The fact that the incredibly resourceful people who knows didn't find him yet left it cemented in his mind that he wasn't being rescued. But then, maybe he brought that on himself. He put up such distance between himself and his friends, they probably didn't even know he was missing yet.  
He swallowed dryly again. "Where am I?" His voice sounded foreign to him, having gone unused for the majority of his time here and being forced out of his dry throat now.

One of the hands that helped him up set on his shoulder gently. He tried to shrug it off, only encouraging the man to grip him instead. "You're safe." The man said simply. "Here, with me. There's quite a few things I need to teach you, but don't worry, we'll start small."  
Barry's brow furrowed in confusion, his mouth opening but the questions dying before he could speak.  
"First, of course, is why you're here. I've bene watching you closely, Mr. Allen. _Flash_. You're quite reckless, you know. Now I understand it's an occupational hazard, but some self preservation would really go a long way. Your manners are lacking as well. _So_ , I've brought you here to strip you down- metaphorically of course, and teach you how to properly behave. We can't let a young man such as yourself continue to embarrass himself like you do. It's unbecoming."

Processing the information, Barry stood stalk still. He was dealing with a mad man.

Despite all of his struggling, Barry was too weak like this to do anything for himself. He squirmed mostly, throwing his weight around to try and avoid the hands pulling at his shirt. He yelled profanities and demanded to be let go as he was pinned to the wall.

"You hold still, and I'll remove your blindfold, how does that sound?" He could feel hot breath on his neck and his stomach churned. He was hopeful that his sight would give him some sort of advantage he was currently lacking, no matter how unrealistic that notion was. He gave into it and stilled.  
"Good." The stranger just about beamed. He pulled on Barry's wrists to guide him, pulling him from the wall and across the room. He tried to fake calmness.

He was pressed harshly between a wooden post that dug into his diaphragm and this stranger's body behind him. It clicked when his arms were let go of, only momentarily before his stiff body was guided again. One cuff came undone and his hands were forced forward.

When the blindfold came off Barry was immobilized by his hands being locked to the post- a thick plank of wood at the bottom of the stairs as the end to the railing. Barry squinted while his eyes adjusted to the already kindly dim lights in the room. A basement. A clean, empty basement, but a basement none the less.  
"Why?"  
There was a long pause, where Barry assumed his captor was mulling over the answer. He tried look over his shoulder when the man was no longer pressed against his back, finding that the stranger was crossing to the wall behind him where a shelf was mounted high on the wall. Barry could have reached it a little easier than the other did.

"Well, Mr. Allen, it wouldn't surprise me if you tried to run up those stairs even if you can't get any farther than that. I hope you do trust that I'm not a dumb man. I wouldn't be much of a teacher if I were, no? So if I'm going to give you sight then I can't have you going for the first exit you see."  
Barry leaned to the left and looked up the staircase. It was too dark to see the top and be scraped his teeth over his bottom lip nervously.  
"Oh, and there are a few rules for your time here. The first is that you don't touch anything on that shelf if I were to un-cuff you."

Seeing the other's face for the first time, Barry was met with a warm smile and a nod to the shelf. He supposed that in hindsight it was good that he truly didn't know this man before. It meant that he hadn't brought this on himself by making a mistake that angered someone.  
Despite the nerves thrumming in his veins, he felt as if his mind and body alike were functioning in slow motion. Maybe they were, all things considered.

"You are such a lovely sight, Barry." The man said. Barry wanted to ask for his name, but nothing comes out when he sees a blade taken from the shelf. A strangled noise falls out of his mouth as the man approached. "Shh, Barry, it's alright. This is just to get that shirt off of you. I'll be replacing the rest of your clothes later as well, but those can be removed just fine without me needing to release your hands." He said as if this would be a comfort. Moments later, with his eyes shut tight, Barry feels his shirt being pulled on and soon it's cut away in a smooth slice up. His sleeves were next, and the material all fell at his feet.

"There we go." He heard next footsteps again, back to the shelf where the knife was set down and something else scraped the wood as it was taken.

A whip, he finds out shortly, as the stranger behind him explains why he chose Barry. He doesn't pay attention to what he's hearing though, doesn't pick up on any hints as to how this man knew that Barry was the Flash or how he was captured. Instead he struggles as hard as he can, kicking, flailing, until he loses his footing and falls to his knees with his arms stuck around that damn post still and drawing his bare chest into it when he fell.

This was his first lesson, to introduce him to pain. By the end of it, Barry believes he just might be in shock as the blindfolded is slid over his eyes again, his hands are freed from the post and re-bound, and he is left alone in the dark again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of rushed and mostly written on a road trip, apologies if it's clunky.

Oliver has very expertly tuned out what was happening around him. There wasn't much to pay attention to anyway, just a lot of concerned faces talking in hushed voices about what to do with Barry now that they have him. They were talking in circles, and his head was elsewhere.

Seeing Barry again would have been a relief in other circumstances. Going into it they all knew that there was no telling what happened to him while he was held hostage, even if he was alive. But of course, the owner of that little house had to leave some time, and when he did they were ready to get their friend back.  
Barry wasn't in good shape though. One look told Oliver that much. His hair was messy, skin paler than he's ever seen it, and his metabolism was eating away at his body. Just like anyone else's, fat would be burned for fuel, as would muscle eventually, and Barry was wirey like he had run out of body fat at the least. The sight made Oliver's stomach churn, and it worsened when he started closer to Barry. For a moment he had looked...Peaceful. Completely resigned to whatever was going on and in his own head. Then he saw Oliver and looked like someone was pulling his fingernails out.

Barry's trembling flickered between normal speed and vibrations, like a glitch. Oliver picked him up and the vibrations stopped. Barry was so light. The younger's body was still stiff as a board and shaking, his legs kicking weakly. Every sound he made came down to a whimper or an apology, every movement stiff and jerky.

When they reached S.T.A.R. Labs, Barry was trying to shut the world out. He kept his eyes shut tight and hands over his ears the entire way and still as they made their way inside. Oliver shook his head at the looks Joe and Cisco gave him, questioning Barry's state. No one said a word until they realized he wouldn't hold still on a hospital bed. Oliver didn't even try to set him down yet. Not with the way he was clinging, hands gripping at anything they could, moving a little and gripping again like he was trying to reassure himself that there was an actual body against his. Oliver had no doubt that that was what he was trying to do.

Worried friends ran around putting pillows in a pipeline cell so Barry could rest there for the time being. He was muttering things that Oliver couldn't make out when he got Barry to let go of him. As soon as they broke apart, Barry stumbled backwards and curled in on himself in the corner. That brought them to where they all were now; pacing around the labs with no idea what could have happened. Other than the obvious starvation, the only way to know what happened to Barry was to ask him. Wether or not he even could speak to them was just as much of a mystery as everything else though.

Oliver has seen a lot of bad things. He's not sure if he remembers seeing such frantic fear before though. People pleading for their lives was similar. He's not sure what to think of that.

Finally, he lifted his gaze from the floor in front of him. "There's no point in trying to figure this out without talking to him."  
"We don't know how he's going to react." Caitlin pointed out.  
"We can try though." Cisco chimed in. "It's better than treating him like an animal in there by himself." Oliver gave him a curt nod.  
"Who goes first then?"

They agreed on Joe for obvious reasons. Seeing Barry again for him was going to be different than for the others. Caitlin and Cisco and Iris, they were a all a part of Barry's family, but Joe raised him. Oliver heard enough about the situation to know that the fact Barry was missing was humbling for the detective, on top of everything else that came with the discovery. The tables of who was on who's bad side flipped.  
Even if he wasn't physically injured, a damaged mind was worse. It couldn't be fixed with super powered healing or his friends in the lab. Barry was traumatized at _least_.

Just like the others, Oliver moved to the monitors to observe. Cisco pressed a key to turn on volume to accompany it.  
Barry was curled up in the corner with his head down and arms wrapped around his knees. There wasn't a single noise aside from Joe's own quiet footsteps, and it caught Barry's attention before he was even halfway down the hall.

"Barry.." He started when he stopped in front of the glass. "How are you feeling, son?" Barry was considerably less panicked than before, at least. "This...Might not seem real, but it is, I promise." Joe continued, just as uncertain.  
Barry seemed to pause before trying to speak. "I know."  
A pause, eyebrows raised in surprise. "You do?"  
"I...I think so." Barry nodded a little. "It feels real... I thought-- I've had..flashbacks, before a-and I thought it wasn't...I thought he wasn't real... M-my mind was playing tricks again."

Relief of varying degrees washed over the group. "Good, that's good Barr. We're all here for you- literally, out in the labs. Cisco, Caitlin, Oliver, Felicity- we've been looking for you." Slowly, very slowly, Barry stood. Anticipation and concern replaced the momentary happiness Joe felt, and after a moment with his eyes elsewhere and lips parted, Barry spoke again.  
"Can...C-can I..." He wet his lips, fingers twitching. "Can I come out now? Please?"

[...]

The trouble with what he's been taught is that his teacher hadn't been entirely clear on everything. He explained what Barry asked or told him to stop asking with no punishment, simple as that. But Barry never thought to ask what he should do with someone who isn't his teacher. They hadn't gotten that far yet, because Barry wasn't quite ready to prepare for the outside world again. His manners have been greatly improved, and he followed instruction without serious protest, he even accepted his punishments with grace almost every time now. He understood. He wasn't happy about any of it, not really, but he understood. He always thought that he was rather polite, especially compared to his old peers, but he did appreciate the new lessons. He had a better respect that a proper young man should, and learning was easier with the structure he had. Barry didn't _like_ his teacher though.

He respected the man and what he has done for Barry this far, even if the rest of the lessons would now go uncompleted. That doesn't mean that he had to be fond of him. No, Barry was rather bitter about a lot of things and he didn't even understand it. On a logical level he was grateful. He understood what had been done and why it has to be that way, why he was treated the way he was. But emotionally...He was furious sometimes. The smallest thing would send him into a fit that he had to reason back or risk punishment, because being impulsive is what got him in trouble before he was taken on as a student as well. Other times he was a hair away from a panic attack or tears- but this is when he sat in the quiet with what music he remembered at the time; he had to take care of himself, after all.

Remarks and comments, weather meant to insult or amuse, used to always be on the tip of his tongue. Now though he didn't think things like that often. He just..Felt. And wished he didn't so strongly.

Barry wonders now - away from his room and his teacher - how much of what he's learned was exclusive to the other man and how much was meant for everyone. Men were sir and women were ma'am, please and thank you were musts, simple things like that were obvious. But others.. Who would teach him now? He remembers Joe, he knows that he wouldn't punish Barry like he might need, that no one else was going to guide him like he's been guided so far. They let him get as bad as he was when he was taken on, after all. Barry knew as much. But it was instinct to kneel when he was scolded, to keep his head down when he needs to apologize and look other's in the eye when they spoke to him otherwise. They hadn't taught him those things- would he need to go against his teacher to be around them? A new set of rules, as it were? Or could he carry on? And did some of those learned habits apply exclusively to his teacher or were they meant to be obeyed at _all_ times? Was he allowed to ask for things again?

He needs to go back and learn.

[...]

"Yeah..Yeah of course, Barr. I'll be right back." Joe said, taken aback by Barry's cautious and uncertain voice. It sounded more like a plea than a question and sent a new wave of unease through Joe and Oliver alike. Still, he turned to go get Caitlin or Cisco, who could unlock Barry's cell and let him out for some much needed food and water.  
All eyes were locked onto him when he came back, seeing himself that the group had all crowded around the desk. Understandable.

"So?"  
"I'll get something for him to eat." Cisco offered. Also understandable, the kid looked like he was ready to puke since they got back from the rescue mission.  
"I'll get the door." Caitlin said, starting towards the hall. She was expert at keeping her nerves in check when on the job, but Oliver recognized it and the different tone of voice she spoke with.

The young woman's composure changed when she saw Barry behind the glass. A breath escaped her and she was trying not to rush over to him- to startle him. Barry watched her with the same worried eyes he's had - unknown to the three in the lab - but left the comfort of his corner when she approached. As the doors slid open Barry hesitated, waiting to make sure they were fully opened and no one was trying to block his path before he stepped forward. "Thank you."  
"Of course." Caitlin said kindly.

Moving slowly so that he could keep up comfortably, Joe and Caitlin walked Barry down the hall and back to the main room where the others were waiting. They watched him enter, some expectantly, some in quick glances as they tried not to stare.  
He looked at them all, eyes scanning over the room, almost in _awe_.

"Barry." Felicity said gently, fingers tightening on her arms as she held herself back from rushing towards him.  
A weak smile formed on Barry's lips, his eyes meeting hers as he spoke. "Felicity." She sighed with relief, softly, but Barry caught it and tilted his head. "You didn't think I forgot did you?"  
Felicity smiled and shook her head, starting over to him. "Can I hug you now?" They could all hear the emotion building in her voice just as well as they could see the surprise on Barry's face. It worsened Oliver's unease, watching from the sidelines.

"Yeah-- Yes, ma'am." Felicity paused, just for a second before wrapping her arms around him. Barry started to shake as he returned the gesture. A minute later and all the air left his lungs in a long sigh.  
Felicity gave him a squeeze and pulled away.

Barry's wet chuckle broke the quiet moment, his smile as bright as ever. Oliver didn't want to be skeptical, but he was. He wondered, as he's sure that many of them did, if it was a good idea to let Barry into a room full of his friends so soon. He seemed to be handling it fine, though his attention narrowed to one person at a time. Oliver thought about stepping in, felt an itching to get up and join in on the affection, but he remained back against the wall. It wasn't possible for them to all think Barry was fine other than malnutrition, these weren't stupid people. He knows as much but he couldn't get around how relieved the room was. They were speaking too soon. What happened to Barry, what changed, how he felt, it was all still unknown. Oliver listens carefully to his friend, the hesitation and confusion lacing the otherwise happy words and movements. He was uncomfortable but not enough so to voice it. Perhaps he wasn't able to all this time.

Cisco returned with an armful of fast food bags, stilled in the doorway at the sight. Barry was out of the cell and Felicity had her hands on his shoulders, a sad smile on her face. It was sudden and quickly stifled, but it revealed his own relief.  
Cisco smiled a little sadly and cleared his throat, continuing into the room. "Soups up man, glad to see you out of the pen." He said as lightly as he could manage.

Barry turned to him with a wide smile and tears in his eyes. "Cisco." He breathed and marched over to him, making him drop the food to a pile on the floor in order to catch the skinny young man. "You're real, it's real." Barry all but whispered, holding his friend tightly. The flinch at Cisco's arms wrapping around his waist sent a new wave of worry through his mind, but Barry didn't pull away and no one else seemed to notice. Cisco closed his eyes and tried to enjoy the moment.  
"He said you wouldn't come- he said that no one was coming for me, that-"  
"It's ok, Barry. It's ok now.." He tried, he really did, but it didn't feel ok yet. "A-as soon as we found out we didn't stop looking."

"H-he said- He--" Then he was trembling again, and soon pulling away from the embrace. Head down, Barry's eyes caught the mess on the floor and he scrambled to pick it all up and set on a desk. "I'm sorry, I'm _so_ sorry I wasn't even _thinking_ um..."  
"It's ok, Barr." Joe said, drawing Barry's attention to him. Another sad smile, not as wide as before.

"Foods for you anyway, man." Cisco said, trying to pull the situation into a less awkward one. Barry blinked, staring at him in disbelief.  
"All of it?"  
"Yeah, as much as you can handle anyway. You might get sick if you over-do it but.." He trailed off, scratching the back of his head. Barry looked just about ready to hug him again, but instead he hesitantly - far too hesitantly - sat at the desk and pulled out a burger from one of the bags. He devoured it after the first bite, humming with satisfaction. Worried glances battled with concerned ones at the sight.

"How often did you eat before?" Caitlin asked carefully, pulling up another chair to sit by Barry. He was aware of her presence, but he didn't tense. Merely looked in her eyes when she spoke. He dug through the bag for a napkin to wipe his mouth before answering.  
"Once a day, if I was good. Always after lessons too." Oliver lifted his head.  
"Lessons?" Joe blurted the question, and Barry turned to him and nodded.  
"Yes. That's why he took me, to teach me better."

Felicity looked to Oliver, questions written on her face. He turned his eyes back to Barry. "Better how?"  
Barry looked to him, blinking, and then down at the desk in front of him. "I keep messing up." He said with a shrug. "I mess up and I don't learn, and other people have to clean up my messes. So he took me to teach me to be better." There was an underlying bitterness in his voice, one that might have flown over some of their heads but not all. "We weren't finished though, so I'm not... I only learned how to behave with _him_ so far."

"Barry you learned manners as a kid, like everyone else." Barry stilled at Joe's stern tone.  
"With all do respect, I wasn't good enough- I'm still not good enough. Not to belittle your effort, Joe, or my father's, really. But I've been so impulsive up until now, look at all the bad things that have happened because of me." The words weren't his own, foreign in Barry's voice. A trained response that made stomachs churn.

"Barry," Oliver started, drawing the young man's attention again before Joe could reply. "Do you mind having all of us in here while you eat?" This earned him a few looks, mostly out of confusion than anything else. "Be honest."  
Hesitation. His fingers twitched in front of him. He used to pick at his nails when he was nervous. "I'm not used to the company, but it's nice." He said with a small smile. "And I've missed you all."  
"We've missed you too." Oliver replied. "You should eat though. We can save questions for after you've slept, I'm sure." He looked around the room to confirm their understanding of his underlying message.

Barry nodded and threw the room for another loop with a polite "Yes sir." Before he continued on with his meal.  
They had a lot of work to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why yes, I do have plans to give Cisco and Oliver quite the parts in Barry's recovery.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Flashback scene of Barry having needles poked into his chest. I would not call it graphic.

Six minutes. They were gone six minutes, leaving Barry alone to finish the last burger he could probably stomach(previously he could have eaten all that Cisco brought him, now it was maybe half). Given his previous living situations, where to take him was up for debate. Home could be overwhelming, but keeping him in a box didn't sit right with anyone, no matter how comfortable they make it.  
They came back to find Barry curling up under the desk he had been sat at.

No one laughed.

Cisco was the first to move.  
He knelt down and moved the chair out of the way carelessly. "Barry? You ok?" He had no idea what he was doing, but he guessed that no one else would do any better. Especially not when met with this sight- still so sickly, looking up from his place on the floor with wide eyes. It was as if part of his mentality was just wiped away, leaving him confused and innocent like a child somewhere unfamiliar. That was probably the best comparison any of them could make for this situation.  
"He said to rest after I ate, and I'm full now." Barry answered simply.  
A brief pause. "Ok, buddy. Listen uh, I'm guessing you didn't get a bed or any blankets back there, right?"  
"Yes."  
"Just an empty room."  
"Yes. With a toilet."  
"Ok well.. Where do you want to stay tonight? Cause we don't want to overwhelm you with being back but if going back to Joe's sounds good you can."

Barry wets his lips and let his gaze drift to the floor. Another set of slow movements, propping himself up on his elbow from where he was laying on his side. "Can I go back?"  
"Back to Joe's?" Cisco's brows rose curiously. He hadn't actually expected Barry to want to be home, but maybe that was a good sign. Cisco was sure going to take it as one.  
One shake of his head and Barry sent his remaining hope back down. "No-- No sir, I need to go back to my teacher.. There's still.. I'm not ready yet." Barry looked at Cisco hopefully. He could have sworn his throat was closing up around his words as if they were rocks he was spitting out. "Barry- you can't go back."  
His already odd gaze scanned over Cisco's face as if there was a sign of a lie there for him to find. "I'm... I'm not done learning- he said there was still more to be done. I don't know what to do out here yet, only with him." The pleading tone was what topped it off, what stopped Cisco from speaking.

"You've been gone too long already, Barry. He'll be mad if you go back now." Oliver didn't sound quite right either. He was probably the best at staying level at the moment, but he was hesitant as well, unsure of what his words would do.  
Cisco wished he didn't say anything at all as he watched panic seep into Barry's body; hands shaking, eyes shot open, breathing uneven and all of it barely even visible. He wasn't good at holding things in like he apparently was now.  
Cisco held his hands out in front of him, doing his best to seem non-threatening.

"You're not in trouble, Barry." He tried, speaking slowly and just as carefully sliding back across the floor to give his friend space. Barry wasn't staring at him though, rather, whatever was in front of him, even if just for a few moments before he moved again. He crawled out from under the desk with a deep breath, lowering his head and settling on his knees. From Cisco's point of view he could see eyes shut tight.  
Someone might be speaking, he realizes, as he sees movement out of the corner of his eye, but all he could hear was his own heartbeat thudding in his ears.

A hand carefully touches Barry's shoulder. He flinches, gasps softly through his nose. Cisco breaths deeply and blinks, forcing his focus to the other man instead. Oliver rubbed Barry's upper back in gentle circles, slowly crouching down to be at his level. The shaking breaths don't settle.

[...]  
_One week, four days._

The small cloth is shoved into his mouth, touching the back of his throat as the man pushes it back with his fingers regardless of his jerking movements. Probably because of his jerking movements. Barry coughs and gags around it while another strip is wrapped around his head, over his mouth and tied at the back.  
"Now," the man starts, stepping back with a slightly winded huff. "I do take some of the blame for this, I want you to know that. I should have expected more possibilities for your resistance to be expressed in." Barry's hands clench into fists, locked in cuffs behind his back.

"I honestly thought you'd be more physical." He continues, turning his back and walking towards the one shelf. Barry eyes him carefully. His time with this man was the only time he had exposure to input. Until that door at the top of the stairs opened, it was silence and darkness. His thoughts. His thoughts weren't good anymore. "Now, for full disclosure I would like to explain that lessons like this wont always be the same. Because this is your first offense though, I feel that we should jump right into it and teach you your lesson for being disrespectful- show you how bad it can get. And, do remember, it could be worse if you were physical. I don't recommend testing it." As he spoke, preparing something in a case on the floor, Barry kept his eyes trained on him.

The man stands with a small box in his hand rattling at the movement. "They're all clean, I promise. I don't want to see what happens when your advanced systems meets an infection as I'm sure you don't either." He swallows hard. The box is full of sewing needles.  
They're longer than they look, slowly pushed in until reaching bone. One by one, they pierce Barry's skin at the same agonizing pace. He shuts his eyes tight, lets his head fall back in attempt to keep from seeing it. He flinches every time, his breathing unsteady as each shot of pain is followed by his skin healing around the metal in another stinging sensation. He doesn't count, but apparently the other man does. When he's finished, he sets the box down and speaks.  
"The box had one-hundred in it, but I think eighty is enough. I'm sure you'll agree." He finally opens his eyes again, glaring at his attacker adamantly. "I'd like you to know the reasoning in my choices, Barry. In this case I'm choosing to stop here because it seems you're body has attached to the, ah...Additions that I've made. I'll have to remove them, which will cause some tearing."

He's ready to be done. Shaking his head stiffly, Barry tries to make that clear but his pleas go ignored. It wasn't until halfway through the process that he started to cry - helpless in pain that didn't seem to ever stop - but it had been slow, quiet tears and loud sniffling as his nose ran. As soon as the first needle was ripped from his skin it worsened; new dread settling over him as it began again. The sharp sting was replaced with a quick tugging on his flesh and a burning as his skin ripped away from the small, smooth metal.

True to his word, the man remove all eighty. Barry doesn't even notice him cleaning up, setting the tools back on the shelf and gathering the bloody little tools. Doesn't realize that the little box of needles is set on the bottom step of the stairs before the stranger approaches to deal with Barry again. Barry's eyes don't open again until he feels a hand on his chest, cold and gently placed over the quickly healing little holes. He doesn't notice how much longer it's taken compared to normal.  
His breath is still shaking, just like his fingers behind his back. The light shocks his eyes after having them so tightly shut for so long, but the face he's met with through his squint is calm and pleased in a way- proud.

The cuffs are unlocked from behind his back and redone in front of him. The gag is removed next, and he's fixed with that look again. It's as unsettling as it is reassuring. Tears are still flowing, but they're slower. His sniffling is just as loud and wet as before though.  
"You did well, Barry. You'll get a better pain tolerance as we go, but the less you resist the less we'll have to test that. Understand?" A long moment of silence, of Barry just breathing through his dry mouth before he gives a small nod. "Good, good. You'll learn well, I think. I'll bring you something in two hours."

He left with the little box, and Barry felt like he was melting onto the floor when he laid down. The blindfold was absent, but it didn't matter. He wasn't trying to escape. He was exhausted inside and out, and the feeling was familiar. Similar to the first while of darkness, he is alone. Completely, utterly alone. They would have found him by now if they were looking, he thinks. But in the end that was his fault, wasn't it? Forcing people away blindly is what made him vulnerable. Just like being impulsive, lead by emotions got him injured so many times before. This was Barry's own doing.

[...]

Cisco was afraid of him. Barry wasn't violent- he never was before he was _taught_ not to be, but something about this was scaring his friend. Probably all of them, but Barry didn't want to get up and see their faces. Disgusted, or afraid, or disapproving... He couldn't do it. Cisco was bad enough.  
"What are you sorry for..?" Oliver asked, his voice careful and soft. His hand on Barry's back was so gentle, moving in such a sweet gesture, an attempt at comfort. His teacher pet his hair when he praised him. Barry didn't deserve praise now though. He was doing something wrong and he isn't entirely sure what that is. His teacher wasn't here for him to apologize to, but he needed to because he let himself be taken away and didn't immediately try to go back. He was just so happy to see his friends again that he didn't think about it, not logically enough to realize how badly he needed to go. He wasn't ready.  
Oliver had asked him a question. What _was_ he sorry for? He would answer if he knew what he did wrong, and he knew that he did do _something_ , but surely this was part of the real world's different structure he wasn't taught to maneuver yet.

"I don't know, sir." His throat hurts, his eyes are stinging, but crying was childish and saved for _pain_ , not emotional outbursts. That was just immature. He takes a deep breath to steady himself. "What did I do wrong?" When you don't know the answer, you ask for help. No shame in asking for help with things he doesn't understand.  
There's a silence that he can't measure. He's never been good at being on time. He had no way to keep track of it anymore anyway. Or- he does as of today, outside of the basement. "Nothing. You didn't do anything wrong Barry." Oliver says, his tone as careful as before. Barry isn't sure that he should believe him. He wasn't used to thinking about what to believe. Back there, he only had one person to listen to. One person to help him and take care of him. This was somewhere else, with someone else... "I didn't mean to scare you, but you can't go back there. It wouldn't be good for you."  
So Oliver is the one who's wrong... About his wording anyway. The rest of it though? Barry can't tell. His stomach is knotted. He shakes his head.

"Please stop..." He whispers. "I don't know what to do- I-I don't--" His vision blurs with tears as he leans forward on his hands and knees. "I'm supposed to listen to him. Who do I listen to now..?" They didn't seem to have an answer for that. Not for a few minutes anyway. Barry tried to reign in his emotions in the meantime; breathing slow and deliberate, playing his teacher's voice in his head telling him how to handle these feelings.  
He calms down.

Cisco shifts to his knees, reaching forward to set his hand atop of Barry's. It's another kind gesture that he doesn't deserve. Barry wishes they'd stop and treat him like he's supposed to be treated. He should be smart enough to handle this on his own though, to remember his manners. So because it's polite, he takes Cisco's hand in his. "I'm ok." He says, voice weak. "I'm sorry, I'm ok." And he's reigned himself in. With slow, deliberate movements, he rises to his feet.  
He could do this. He could learn. Maybe if he explained why his teacher's methods worked, they could give it a try and help him too- but, no, that wasn't right. He knows these people; his _friends_. He _knows them_. Barry would have to figure it out on his own, after he's slept.

[...]

Barry stood, his knobby knees wobbling a little, but he had pulled himself together in a few minutes. He was stubborn and the only person Cisco knew that could bounce back from the things that Barry did, as many times as he did. It used to take him time to do that though. Days or weeks of just putting on a smile before it reached his eyes again. This time, with subtle shaking and restrained tears, Barry pulled himself together in minutes and let a smile pull at his lips. Terrifying- not in that he recovered from what might have turned into a panic attack, but that he suddenly knew how. Did his captor teach him? Or did he eventually learn to survive?

Oliver stays within arms reach of Barry, in case he should need help. "Cisco," he starts, still quiet as to not startle their friend. "Why don't you go talk to the others about where he's sleeping?"  
A beat of hesitation before his nod. He wonders idly what Oliver is going to say while he's in the hall.

Heads turn when he approaches, heartbroken faces all waiting for explanation to what they might have heard. He wets his lips before he speaks. "I don't think he can go to Joe's.." He says with fingers fidgeting at his sides. "I don't know what all you heard, but he wants to go back to his... He's gonna be overwhelmed. Probably by a lot of things." Hell, Barry has been sleeping on concrete floor, he probably wont even accept pillows or blankets- maybe they were privileges? In that case he definitely wont if his near panic was anything to go by, so sure that he was in the wrong...  
"He can sleep in the pipeline tonight." He can hear the lump in Joe's throat the man must be trying to force down.

Cisco nods. They'll all need to discuss the situation for what it is once Barry is settled in the cell. If they _could_ take him to the hospital they would most definitely need to, but being who he is...It wasn't possible. Cisco might be feeling sick again. He's not entirely sure if the feeling in his gut is actual sickness or just a knot of nerves.  
Oliver takes Barry to the pipeline. Given how he was fine to have conversation and hug earlier, he supposes it isn't any testament to his current state that he let's Oliver keep a hand on his upper back. It might be more of a sign to how Oliver is doing, actually. A man obviously not inclined to physical contact trying to keep some with his friend whom practically has to force him to hug at the end of a dangerous crime fighting mission, according to Barry.

The rest of Barry's friends are waiting in the cortex again when he comes back, Cisco included. No one says a word for another minute. Or several.  
"Barry isn't ready for a lot of things." Oliver starts. Of course he does, because he can pull himself together for a while when he needs to, much like Caitlin. "This _teacher_ of his starved him, isolated, and probably beat him regularly. God knows what else." A deep breath, arms folding over his chest. "He's been trained to obey. Whatever the routine there was, that's all he's had for months. We have to take this slow, no matter how ok he seems."

"What happened when we left the room?" Felicity. She clears her throat after speaking.  
"He uh," Cisco tries. "He said that he wasn't ready to be here yet, that he's supposed to listen to _him_. I don't think he even knows the guy's name-" He shakes his head, pulls himself back on track. "I think he wanted punishment. He asked what he did wrong a-and got on his knees and just sat there like he was waiting for us to _judge_ him."  
"He probably doesn't even see what's wrong, or if he does he's too afraid to let on." Oliver takes over, for which Cisco is grateful.  
"I think we should give him rules." Caitlin speaks up, drawing all attention to herself including a skeptical look from Joe. "You said that he's afraid of doing something wrong, right? So let's give him some rules to follow. That way he knows what's wrong and right here. Maybe- maybe more than strictly necessary so we can ease him back into normal routines. Remove some when he's been..When he's made progress."

"He's been trained to _fear_ breaking the rules and you want to give him more?" Joe scoffs.  
"Right now it's like he's been thrown in the deep end with maybe _no_ idea what to do anymore." She reasons with her arms tensing around herself. Cisco frowns.  
"Cait's right. Trust me, Joe, if we didn't need to I'd say it was ridiculous, but he's _so_ confused right now. He needs something to go off of."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Flashback includes torture via the hand

Cisco finds Barry asleep on the floor, pillows pushed to the back wall and his body laid out in such a way he looked restrained; ankles together, wrists laid one over the other. He probably slept like that every night. Cisco didn't sleep much at all.

Barry was back, it should be a good thing. It _was_ a good thing, but Barry wasn't himself. What happened in that basement was a mystery. Restraints, starvation, verbal abuse no doubt, who knew how bad of beatings... Who knew what he was told.  
They're lucky if Oliver hasn't gone back and killed the man who did it. Rick something-or-other. If it wasn't for Felicity's technology they probably wouldn't have ever found him. Security cameras caught the extremely average looking man in Jitters on the same days as Barry, standing at crosswalks near the CCPD, always lurking around where there had been the most recent sighting of the Flash. He knew Barry's identity before grabbing him. How he figured it out, Cisco had no idea besides that there could only be so many fix-foot-two, long limbed young men with smiles that glowed like Barry's did.

The trouble still with this man is that they can't do anything to him legally. Barry being found in the basement would mean his secret identity is compromised, but without him _in_ the room then there likely wouldn't be any proof left at all if what he was told is true. They had to give up on the idea of going to the police, which means Rick wasn't going to be punished for this. Not unless vengeance, just like the rescue, was handled by Oliver and his team themselves.

Cisco silently hopes they go for it.

Barry starts to stir, curling and uncurling his fingers, drawing his knees up and back out before he even opens his eyes. He looks surprised. Cisco sits on the floor across from him. No need to be staring down at the guy..  
"I forgot I was here." Barry says with a slight smile.  
Cisco tries to do the same. "How'd you sleep?"  
Barry starts to sit up then, mostly using his arms on the ground to hold himself until he shifts his lower half forward. It looks weirder than it should, that he isn't using his core at all. "I um, I tried to use the pillows- I'm not used to it."

"That's ok, I kinda figured you'd do that anyway."  
"Oh. Why put them in here then?" Barry taps on the glass that separated them. Cisco still doesn't understand why he wanted it closed. It was a request the day prior. But, now it didn't need to be closed, did it? Now that Barry was awake? He gets to his feet and hits a few keys on the touchscreen. Barry looks up at him curiously, but otherwise doesn't move.  
"Just in case.. Listen, Barry, we um.. None of us know what you're comfortable with anymore. Like, in any way. So if something bothers you, we're gonna need you to tell us, ok?" His brow furrows slightly. "You won't get in trouble for it, I promise. We just want to help." Cisco doesn't sound entirely sure of himself, he thinks. He practically rehearsed this, but it was difficult to approach the subject. Risky. Beyond worrying.

Barry nods. Maybe he takes it as a rule, a guideline. He actually hopes so.

[...]

_Two weeks_

It’s the first time that Barry struggled. There wasn’t much on his mind these days. He hadn’t planned to do what he did. He wasn’t planning anything. He wondered about when the next meal would be though.  
He got to eat after the needles. After he ate he was blindfolded again.

He had gone the first few days without water, first having not known there was any for him and then afraid that it wasn’t water in the bucket. He had to relent though. He wasn't anchored to the floor after all, pacing the room was allowed. He just gave up after finding water and a toilet.  
He could find the it in one of the corners of the room if he was particularly determined. He's thankful that it isn't a bucket, but he wonders if it's because the smell would be too much input for this man or if it was already there by design of the house. In that case, where was the sink? A wall to place a even a small bathroom there? Both could have been removed though. Days - weeks? - ago when Barry spent some time thinking about this, he realized how much he wanted to hit his head against the wall. He didn’t think much in here as it is, if those thoughts were spent on plumbing designs of a basement then he might actually have to knock himself unconscious rather than continue.

That minimal thought is what lead to the kicking. He fought physically like he was told not to. For that, a few more restraints and a fold-out table are brought downstairs. His feet are tied to the chair legs, and his forearms are heavily duck taped to the tabletop, palms flat on the surface. Then the blindfold comes off. The case normally on the shelf sits nearby.

He screams into the gag when it begins. A thin layer of skin is sliced off by a steady scalpel. It’s an agonizing pain, long and burning his nerves surrounding the wound. His entire body tenses, his hands clench in search of purchase. In comparison he doesn’t notice the sting of tears building behind his eyes, the pressure in his head that comes with sobbing. He doesn’t dare look.  
“Fascinating…” The voice sounds distant to him. “Open your eyes, Barry. You should see this before it heals, I don’t know how quick it will be.”  
He shakes his head, gasping through his runny nose.  
“Open your eyes, or I do it again. I don’t like repeating myself like this.”

He obeys.  
Opening his eyes, Barry is faced with the sight of his hand missing a line of flesh as wide as the blade. It's only about halfway through his skin, blood gathering quickly over the open wound. A strangled sob forces it's way out his throat.

"Just wait, just wait.. It'll start to heal soon enough.." He sounds like a mad scientist, level but abnormally fascinated with what he was looking at.  
Barry feels sick. Through squinting, tear-filled eyes, Barry watches his skin start to reform. An itching sensation is added to the stinging pain.

"Isn't it just amazing?" It's not. "You truly are a miracle, Barry Allen." He stands. Barry's eyes follow him, wide with fear. The man returns with the blindfold. Dark overtakes his vision, and the blade is pressed to another spot on his hand.

[...]

Barry has probably never had as good of table manners as he does right now. His posture could be better, but apparently that hadn't been a concern. Or perhaps it just isn't _anymore_ , without the eyes of his captor looming over him.

Cisco, personally, wished Oliver was still in town. He and Felicity had vigilante and cover business work to do, it was understandable that by the time they actually got Barry home they could only stay so long.  
They promised to be back as soon as possible, at least one of them. Oliver handled it best though. Obviously it was one of those things where he schooled his emotions to be professional, similar to how Caitlin was all business when Barry comes in injured even though that practical medicine wasn't her study and it was just as nerve-wracking to her as it was to Cisco.

The point was, no one in Central was particularly good at working with Barry. And yet, somehow, Cisco seems to be the one they've put in charge of him most. It was weird how that happened, but his conversations with Barry have gone smoother than the few other attempts so far. If it actually helped then he didn't mind being terrified the majority of the day over what must be in Barry's head now.

Time passes pretty quickly, at least. They don't do much, Barry is used to nothing but his thoughts and he was only returned a day ago. Somehow hours have gone by though. Cisco is pretty sure it's the constant thinking and worrying. Barry sits on the floor most but at the moment he's in one of the desk chairs, long legs forced up onto it, knees drawn to his chest and his fingers on the desk slowly pushing himself around in circles. It's weird. Before that they had just eaten, so Cisco would be worried about him making himself dizzy but he was going so slowly that he just wonders what the point was.

"We can watch tv if you're bored." He offers. The sudden break from the silence has Barry stopping and placing his feet on the ground with impressive normal person speed, like he's been caught doing something he shouldn't. Cisco tries not to frown.  
"Uh-- tv?"  
"Actually," Caitlin says, catching them both a bit off guard as she enters the room. "I was hoping I could run some tests to see where your health was at, Barry."

As it turns out, Barry was pretty much fine with tests. Mostly. Cisco and Caitlin shared a number of worried looks, but no trouble was caused. He almost wishes there was just so he wouldn't have to see Barry the way he was sat on the cot; obedient, resigned maybe, head just tilted down and eyes not all focussed. He did as told and blinked out of that state with the saddest kind of confusion Cisco has ever seen- not that Barry himself was sad, the situation itself was when their friend was so confused by the fact it was over without any pain.

Caitlin almost looks like she wants to cry and turns her attention to the test results she's gathered. Most of what they needed was done like any regular checkup. Scanning his skin was different, but the results were on a computer and still finishing the processing. Barry had looked ready to drop to the floor when they had him strip for it, but he only did as asked and waited.  
It was drawing blood that they were worried about. Blood meant needles and while being in their makeshift hospital room didn't seem to be the problem, everything this far has been painless- hasn't even looked like the tools might hurt him. This was a little different. Caitlin gives Cisco a look he's not positive what to make of and says, "Maybe you should tell him what we're doing? He has the easiest time with you so far." And while that's true, Barry hasn't been afraid of Caitlin either. Not that Cisco could tell, he supposed. But then, maybe that's what her concern is; being associated with stress because she was the doctor, even if it hasn't happened _yet_.

"Yeah, yeah okay."  
Barry is sat on the cot still, waiting patiently with his feet dangling off. He looks alright. Cisco thinks back to the scars they found when looking him over though. As a hero he'd never gotten bad cuts. Beat all to hell, internally damaged, scraped up, but never anything like this. There were some faint ones now, and some bad ones. The faint ones made him think they might go away all together after a while longer. The bad ones must be more recent, or far more severe. Or both.

"Hey, uh, this next one might hurt a little."  
Barry's brow furrows slightly. "What are you doing?"  
"Just taking a blood sample- we have to use a needle, obviously, so.. it's gonna pinch."  
A brief pause. "Okay."  
Admittedly, Cisco had expected more. Perhaps he shouldn't have with what they'd all seen this far. With what they already knew about his treatment. "It'll be quick." He reassures regardless.

Barry takes the needle without so much as a flinch. He watches it, in fact. Caitlin pointedly keeps her focus aimed on the vile filling with blood. Cisco's gaze bounces between the same and his friend's face, searching. Caitlin smiles as reassuringly as she can when it's done, gently touching his shoulder and telling him it was all finished. Barry did look slightly more relieved, Cisco was glad to note before green eyes were locked onto his expectantly. He felt as if he should be looking around for some sign of what Barry could possibly be waiting on but something told him that looking away would be the wrong move.

"...Want something to eat?" He offers. Barry perks up some more and nods.  
"Yes sir."  
They really need to have another talk about the titles.


End file.
